Published March 18, 2011
Lounging in your bed, eating grand bananas,
throw the peels - to the ground, then you slip
on the peels and you fall - on the ground
and you knock over your fountain pen -
it splits into pieces and splatters ink,
Man, how're you getting rid of that 'weakling' stink?
Teas and cookies can enjoy themselves, no
better you've fought off these ills
in years gone, spools wound over
prayers cast in mouth-less waters.
Writing a novel, stream-of-consciousness flow
Yeah so what?
Thoughts come through my head freestyle all the time
just like politics, philosophy, breakfast-dating-tennis
where the first set was yours but I took
the second clean sweep the leg, mate.
You had madeleines help you, little alcohol crumbs
glued together your past; hopeless if that was too strong
a cohesive: a biographical Frenchman
is no one's concern, as absent as G-dot.
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Canary word: Present
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140,548 Literary Works • 673,420 Reviews
Nice
Hey there. So, if I'm quite honest, it did not read much like a poem. It is very prose-like, if not, just prose. Also, no idea what this was really about. Maybe I'm just really dumb. (Probably am)
Why - the - dashes? Really no clue as to why you used them. They broke up the little prose you did have. It reads more like a letter than anything (if I eliminate the dashes).
Sorry, there's not much more I can say.
I don't know much about the 'rules' of poetry, so I'll just tell my general impression. I think there may be some puctuation things a smart person could point out, but again, I am not that person. I really liked this. I was hazy about what it was talking about in the beginning, but I'm tired and that's probably just me. I like the imagery of the banana - that made me laugh. I think the flow of this poem was very nice. It wasn't complicated or a bore or a strain on the brain.
Thanks for posting this.
Thanks for the read.
Dai